


The God of Death and the Child

by Yeziel_Moore



Series: The God of Death [1]
Category: Final Fantasy VII, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Neglect, Friendship, Gen, Human Experimentation, Insanity, Psychological Trauma, dark themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-25
Updated: 2013-06-25
Packaged: 2017-12-16 03:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/857006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeziel_Moore/pseuds/Yeziel_Moore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The journey from childhood to adulthood is fraught with ups and downs and, in a world like Gaia, perils. Genesis' journey was never going to be easy, being what he was. But now he has a God inside his head adding commentary to absolutely everything he did and even the things he didn't do. At this rate Genesis will either be the greatest thing ever or he'll lose his shit a lot earlier.</p><p>That was not part of the plan. Oh, dear...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Birth: Bicolour

**Author's Note:**

> When I posted this for the first time in my FF.net account I used the first chapter for warnings. I won't do that here. If you wish to read them all you can find them here: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7059835/1/The-God-of-Death
> 
> I'll just say that I haven't played the games. I've seen the movies and read a lot of fanfictions, but no games, which means that some discrepancies may be unintentional. At any rate, I planed this as an AU so there will be differences.
> 
> Also this is written in drabbles or short chapters, depending, but I'll just call them drabbles for convenience sake. 
> 
> And lastly, I don't have a beta.
> 
> On another note, I'll add the corresponding tags as they are needed.

__

_**Disclaimer:** _I solemnly swear I'm not the owner of Harry Potter and Final Fantasy. I wish I own Genesis. Pity. But I do own this plot._ _

__**Words:** 1133._ _

* * *

Green and black.

The world was either the brightest of greens or the deepest of blacks.

Whenever he opened his eyes –intense, deep, emerald-green eyes- he saw green; brilliant, bright, blinding, blazing green; alive and pulsing, like a green heart; at once silent and deafening and suffocating. Threatening and soothing. Opposites, a contradiction, an oxymoron.

He both hated and loved it.

He could tell that the green was everywhere at once, inside, around and outside him; it was life and it was death; bigger and vaster than him, but not powerful enough to swallow him. They weren't compatible, not quite, but they weren't enemies either.

The world beyond the green was black to his eyes. He knew there were things beyond the glass cylinder that was his prison; he remembered what things laid there, their exact positions, the whites, greys and blacks that painted those objects. But he couldn't see. The green that pooled around him was his real prison, it was too bright and everything else was too dark. It effectively cut his senses off. For anyone else it would've been maddening but he didn't care, he didn't even remember when he stopped caring for details like those, or caring in general.

So he kept his eyes closed, shielding himself from the brightness and sheer aliveness of the green in his inner world of darkness. To him, the black world of his consciousness held greater things. Even with his five senses cut off and his power trapped inside his body by the green he still had access to his inhuman awareness of everything living and dying. He could easily feel the life beyond the green, the glass, the room he was in and the building: human life, wildlife, and just about every other form of life out there, small or big. He often "watched" the going-ons of the life outside, trying to get a feeling of what activities they were performing from the movements and vague impressions he could catch; it offered, if anything, some measure of entertainment. More often than not he wished that his fledging trapped in the basement, whom he called 'sleeping beauty' in remembrance of that old fairytale from his world, would answer his calls, but he never did. Although the creatures inside his fledging sometimes did answer and the subsequent conversations were on the top his his list of entertaining things. It was, unfortunately, a very short list, too short for his tastes.

The truth was he was bored.

Normally he was more patient than this. He was an immortal being, patience was the first thing he had learned or he would've snapped long ago –or maybe he did, who knows-, however, in any other situation he would've something, anything, to keep his mind occupied. Floating around in green stuff, cut off from the world and unable to use most of his abilities was not fun. Not that he remembered much about fun or the last time he had had fun.

He tapped the thick glass of his prison absentmindedly with a deathly white yet elegant finger. It was too hard for him to break out by using pure brute force, at least without adding a good deal of his inner energy to the mix, something easily done but too troublesome to do. The green didn't allow him the control he needed and his raw energy was too wild and too dangerous, using it in that state would probably cause an earthquake on top of collapsing the entire building on his head. He wasn't  _that_  bored yet. Not that it would kill him anyway, but he didn't feel like entombing his depressed and emotionally scarred fledging prematurely.

 **Why, thank you, I wouldn't have guessed you as the cosiderate tipe.**  Purred Chaos in his head.  **But you shouldn't worry about us, something as insignificant as a collapsing building would never kill us, even if my host wished otherwise. Who knows, without a coffin maybe my dearest would stop wasting our life away in this dreary place.**

The green-eyed prisoner snorted mentally to the more civilized of the creatures fused with fledging's soul.

" _I am merely bored, not desperate. You will certainly know when that time comes"_

Chaos grumbled something definitely unflattering before retreating to his host mind a bit too fast to be casual. The Lord of Mayhem he may be, absolute Chaos and wanton Destruction was his Way, but he wasn't stupid. He knew exactly what the human-shaped entity in the lab was and he didn't want it anywhere near his host. Unfortunately for him, the insufferable, slimy and would-be-dead-preferably-by-his-claw doctor, or whatever he was, that bounded him to a human man had also injected his reluctant host with that entity cells, creating another unbreakable bond, if only less intimate.

Chaos was immortal, yes, but the human he was bound to wasn't, and, anyway, not even immortality was immune to Death.

The aforementioned prisoner kept tapping the glass prison. The steady rhythm of a long-forgotten song, whose origins he should know but couldn't remember at the moment, helped him in the task of clearing his mind from useless thoughts.

He supposed he should stop complaining. He was used to this kind of hollow existence, it had been like that for the longest of times, even if then it had been better or at least more comfortable. The current situation, bothersome as it was, didn't really face him when he stopped to think about it. He had been through worse shit than being abandoned in some sort of suspended animation after the lame copy of Dr. Frankenstein couldn't have his immoral way with his body... in a non-sexual way, you creeps.

He would get out eventually, he knew. Either somebody would wander to this place and free him –intentionally or accidentally, it didn't matter-, or time would collapse the equipment as it had done to many other things in the past, or the boredom would win and he would blast everything away and deal with the consequences later if he felt like being responsible. He could wait, time was, after all, something he had in spades.

So in the end he took a leaf from his fledging's book and emptied his mind in preparation to sleep for a while. He carefully reinforced his occlumency shields in order to keep the annoying voices the green carried within it away from his already dubious sanity. The little lights from the life around him dimmed and went away, one by one.

Far away, further than he should be able to perceive in his position and condition, one insignificant light flickered briefly to life, too small and weak to remain steady. The light went away immediately after, a breath away from the almost asleep prisoner dimming awareness, too late to touch it.

 


	2. 5 years: Wakey-wakey, rise and shine!

 

 ** **Disclaimer:** _ __ _ ** ___I solemnly swear I'm not the owner of Harry Potter and Final Fantasy. I wish I own Genesis. Pity. But I do own this plot.___  
  
 **Words:** 498.

 

* * *

 

Waking up after a long and deep slumber is always a daunting and disorientating task and made for a very cranky emerald-eyed entity. The fact that it was only his mind that was stirring and not his body was a fairly welcomed fact, he wasn't sure he could've stopped the instinctual reflex to open his eyes before his awareness caught up with him, which would've lead to being blinded by the ever-bright green, worsening his already sour mood. It didn't stop him from feeling annoyed at whatever reason he was woken up for though.

The abandoned lab, for that was where his prison was located, was apparently as untouched and void of life as the time before he went to sleep. He expanded his awareness some more but nothing seemed out of the ordinary for the life forms crowding this part of the world. Slightly more curious and minimally less grouchy he turned his attention inwards. The connection with Chaos' host was equally abandoned and he could almost imagine the cobwebs covering metaphorical corners. He kept searching, knowing that something was amiss but unable to pinpoint the problem's location. An eternity later he still had no results and was in a worse mood than at the beginning. He was ready to return to dreamland when he felt it.

It was weak and muffled, tiny and... delicate? No, not quite delicate, more like fragile, just as the finest crystal. The signal was human and it was far away, that much he could tell, but where was coming from? And why was he able to feel it? He knew of his current limitations, knew he shouldn't be able to perceive anything from such distance, but he did. He hummed to himself and poked around the less travelled paths of his mind and soul searching for the elusive signal. It was a wonder something so weak, like a voice drowning in the sea during a storm, could've roused him from his slumber. He idly wondered how much time has passed since he went to sleep and when would Chaos realized he was awake. He could use an articulate, and most of the time intelligent, conversation.

 _"And 'speaking' of Chaos"_  he thought, mildly flabbergasted when he came upon a connection almost identically to the one he shared with Chaos' host. There were some noticeable differences: for starters it was much newer but somehow still stable; it also had a different feeling to it, one he thought may be innocence but wasn't sure. If he was asked to assign colours to each connection he would say that both were red: the 'sleeping beauty' was a distressed, cold and swirling red intermixed with strands of hateful black; on the other hand, the newcomer's was a fiery, fierce and wild red that flowed like water and burned like fire at the same time. Magma? Maybe. It was a poetic thought and completely inconsequential.

He stopped analyzing and reached for the connection.

 


	3. 5 years: Genesis *

**Disclaimer:**   I solemnly swear I'm not the owner of Harry Potter and Final Fantasy. I wish I own Genesis. Pity. But I do own this plot.

 **Words:**  1457.

 

* * *

 

The puzzle was halfway finished; some pieces were scattered around haphazardly but most of them were waiting for their turn in a carved box made out of a Banora White tree branch. The finished product was supposed to be a mansion, just like the one carved in the wood: a beautiful, atemporal building with an almost tangible air of grandeur surrounding it.

That was not what it looked like at the moment. Fragmented pieces of the structure could be distinguished from the mass of scattered pieces: portions of windows, columns, statues and something that could be a gate; grass, flowers and an almost-complete Banora White tree were also part of the mess. The incomplete sky was coloured in a deep shade of blue without a cloud in sight.

In the real world twilight was rapidly approaching, the light dimmed and the colours started changing in the sky from blue, to orange to a startling blood red. The little person crouching in front of the unfinished puzzle didn't pay the spectacle any mind.

A shuffling sound and a click later and another piece was in its rightful place. The process was repeated a couple of times before everything seemed to stop abruptly. The little, chubby hand that was directing the pieces had stilled for some reason. Blue eyes, darkened by the fading light, remained fixed with childish curiosity and morbid fascination on the now changing picture. The dark red tint that the sunset gave the wooden floor where the game laid was suddenly alive, red and orange shadows not unlike flames roared to life, they consumed and they destroyed like vengeful spirits straight from Hell. The mansion was crumbling under the pressure of the cursed fire, the scattered pieces of the puzzle transformed themselves into solid ruins. The flowers wilted, the grass burned and the tree soon followed. And then... ******

It was over. The artificial lights flickered to life and the vision faded like mist in the morning.

"Dinner will be ready in an hour, young master" informed the personal maid of the child, a middle age woman with a strong character and an unyielding temper to match. "Will my assistance be necessary today?" she asked, concealing her disgruntlement with practiced ease. It was her job to help the boy but said youngling had thrown enough temper tantrums about not being a baby and therefore not needing assistance for something as  _simple_  as bathing and dressing himself that his father had allowed his only son to do as he pleased, if only to finally get some silence and peace of mind. While the child was smug about the small victory the woman certainly did not appreciate it.

The boy shook himself from an unseen force and blinked at her uncomprehendingly before her words registered in his mind. He waved one hand lazily in dismissal and she turned around with a sigh of resignation. When the door closed the child turned wary and curious eyes to the unfinished puzzle and found nothing, there was no fire, no destruction and certainly no deranged laugher and furious shouting as he thought he had heard at the end... He scowled to the game as if willing the inanimate object to react and pouted when it didn't. He kicked the box in resentment, sprawling the remaining pieces and generally making a mess before turning around and leaving the room, abandoning any and all thoughts related to the occurrence behind.

The vision and the feelings of unease were stuffed in a corner of his mind and would be forgotten soon. He was five years old, and while he was a particularly intelligent and alert one, he didn't care for things like bad omens and premonitions. He didn't know about the existence of such things and he wouldn't have believed it if he did. He was only five but he already knew he would inherit his father business, he needed to learn the trade and he was determined to excel. He didn't have the time or inclination to dwell on impossible things like those.

This sceptical kid was called Genesis, Genesis Rhapsodos, and was a far cry from the powerful, poetic and almost mystical 1st class SOLDIER he would become one day. And the needed push, the push that would change more than everyone could've guessed, was about to happen.

Genesis checked his white shirt for creases and vainly checked his slightly –and intentionally- mussed hair; vanity was a trait that would never leave him it seems. He flickered an auburn-coloured lock of hair out of his eyes and straightened himself. Black shorts, equally black, knee-long socks and polished shoes completed the look, making him look exactly like the spoiled rich brat that he was.

In the Rhapsodos household family dinners were mandatory and the most important part of the day for Genesis. Sometimes it was the only chance he would get to see his parents as they were busy most of the day. It was also the main reason he went to all that trouble to be able to look after himself: it was a show of responsibility, its meaning clear for him: to demonstrate that he was able to make himself presentable and arrive on time. Unfortunately, his father hadn't acknowledged this little success. It stung, but Genesis was determined to make his father proud, and a determined child is a force to be wary of.

He gave himself a last once over. Satisfied he turned around and exited the bathroom across from his room. The location was a fortunate thing at the moment because he'd forgotten his tie and he had wasted enough time already. Two minutes later he was ready and giving one last look at the mirror in his room he turned to leave...

" _If you add a few feathers I am certain you would make a remarkable peacock."_

...and promptly stumbled, gravity pulled him and he was flat on his face before he could even blink. He hastily climbed to his feet while looking around for the source of the voice, he even looked under the bed but found nothing, much to his chagrin. He was about to forget the whole thing when a ball of amusement exploded into him. Amusement that was not his own.

"W-what was...?" he asked to no one, looking around again and starting to feel a bit scared. A quiet laugh resounded in his head and Genesis flushed, suddenly embarrassed and a bit angry at being the one laughed at. "S-shut u-up! And stop hiding!"

More amusement.

" _I am not hiding, I am here."_

"Really?" he paused to look around suspiciously "Where? I don't see you."

" _Inside your head, of course."_  the apparently disembodied voice said casually.

Genesis eyes were wide with disbelief and a building feeling that was very close to fear and teetering into panic-land.

"You lie! You can't be inside my head! Only crazy people hear voices in their heads an' I'm not crazy! So g-go away!" Genesis almost shouted angrily. He tried to conceal his fear, to sound brave but he only managed to invoke some anger that did nothing to hide the waver in his voice. He was starting to breathe hard and his heart rate accelerated.

" _Some logic you have there. Unfortunately for you I am very real..."_

"No, you're not! Can't be! I'm not crazy!" he interrupted the voice.

" _I never said..."_

"S-shut u-up! Go 'way!" the boy repeated and stumbled back towards the door, in his haste he tripped over the abandoned box he had kicked earlier and fell painfully on his back. Or he would've if his arms hadn't acted alone to stop his fall. Wide-eyed, Genesis tried to regain control of his suddenly uncooperative body, he tried to struggle but nothing happened, not even a twitch of his fingers. At least he could feel, as the feeling from his hand where a tear had fallen could testify, but that was it. He was a passenger in his own body and it was the single most terrifying feeling he had felt in his young life. More silent tears followed and he sniffled trying and failing in thinking a solution like his father would have. When nothing, not even a stupid idea, came he broke down and cried.

He didn't noticed when control of his body was returned to him, barely seconds after being taken in reality. He didn't notice the buzz in his ears, his shallow gasps that didn't really count as breathing or the frantic hammering of his heart. He thought he may have heard something, a whispered apology but then everything was darker than a moonless night and silent as a grave.

" _Well... that went well."_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***** As you guys may have guessed there are two reasons for this title: the obvious and the not so obvious.
> 
>  ****** When I wrote this I didn't know much about Banora, as such I didn't know what Genesis' house was supposed to look like. As he was rich I imagined a mansion, more or less. I didn't feel like changing it because I liked it, I still like it.  
>  If the "vision" is about Banora or about Nibelheilm I'm afraid I don't know yet, he. If it's real or not, I don't know either. It's up to debate, but know that in the end I will go wherever this fic may take me.


	4. 5 years: Connected

**Disclaimer:**   I solemnly swear I'm not the owner of Harry Potter and Final Fantasy. I wish I own Genesis. Pity. But I do own this plot.

 **Words:**  1543.

 

* * *

 

The room was large and round, made entirely of some sort of dark-gray stone. The floor was covered with a crimson rug that looked disturbingly like recently spilled blood, the ceiling was covered in shadows and the only distinguishable thing in the walls were the arched windows that were set at precise intervals. It was easy to guess that the room belonged to a tower, a tower in a castle to be precise, and while all that was good and dandy the room itself left little doubt about its abnormality.

It was much too big to be considered normal, even taking into account it was part of a castle and therefore huge. Also, for some reason the place was divided in two parts that, while similar, were quite obviously two different spaces meshed together. One half was pretty much a copy of Gryffindor's Tower common room but with every colour wrong: every sitting place, from chairs to armchairs to sofas was pitch-black with random pictures sewn into them with red, silver, green and golden thread. Tables were scattered around like in the original common room but no fire was dancing merrily in the humongous fireplace that could easily fit two grown men and nothing could be seen from the large, arched window except for an endless darkness. It was a gloomy and ominous picture, especially when compared to the original. The second half had several four-post beds with their headboards resting on the wall, a window in-between beds with a night stand under each windowsill. All of them perfect copies from the boys bedroom in the Gryffindor Tower.

All except one.

That bed was made from some sort of silvery-white wood and carved so perfectly and in such way that it looked like liquid silver, the sheets were made of deep blue silk while the covers were black as ink, just like the drawn curtains. And in the middle of the bed was sitting a confused and bleary-eyed Genesis.

The redhead child blinked several times to chase away the drowsiness that stubbornly clung to him while looking around from his place. He was curious but didn't move from his safe heaven. The entirely of the combined rooms gave off a dark and dangerous vibe that almost had the child hiding under the covers, especially the shadowed corners. Problem was, the shadows were practically everywhere and he could feel the cold and apparent nothingness they held. It was a feeling that would've upset any rational adult, to a child it was terrifying.

"Hello." a masculine voice suddenly speak up, almost startling Genesis out of the bed. The boy looked to his left but could barely make out the dark silhouette of a standing man. The uneasiness and fear that had been present before suddenly spiked to an all-consuming and irrational terror that left him unable to move, blink or even breathe. Tears gathered in his eyes, whether for not blinking or fear it was unknown, probably both. It seemed like he was about to collapse from a second breakdown, if not something worse, when the voice spoke again.

"Breathe." he ordered and Genesis obeyed automatically "You have no need for worry here Genesis, no harm will come to you by my hand in this place, that I swear."

And like magic the shadows that had been clinging to every surface disappeared, making the gigantic room both warmer and brighter. The feeling of utter fear that merely a second ago had been all but choking the child vanished like a bad dream confronted with daylight. The memory, however, didn't leave completely.

"W-wha-t w-was that?" Genesis stuttered, beyond caring about how displeased his father would've been about such abysmal lack of composure.

"That was my presence." The man answered truthfully with a little shrug. He tilted his head in an almost childlike gesture that could've been called cute even in a man if not for the automatic way it was performed, like a machine playing the part of the human "I have masked it now. There is no need to worry about it."

The child nodded, a bit unsure but willing to believe it, or at least not willing to question it when it was obviously fresh in his mind. Silence befall them and stretched uncomfortably but none of them paid attention, Genesis was too interested in the stranger and the other just didn't care one way or the other.

Long-ish black hair stood out even the darkness, each strand pointing in a different direction seemingly with a mind of its own, skin too white too be healthy could be seen where the simple red T-shirt and black jeans didn't cover. But the most memorable feature of the young man were undoubtedly his eyes, green like emeralds and just as beautiful and alluring as well as hard, cold and vacant. The man was once called Harry Potter and a long time ago he could have been easily recognized by his lighting-bolt scar, from which only remains a faded memory on his forehead, loved and hated by many and almost never by the same person. But all that was no more. Many dimensions and even more centuries now divided Harry Potter from his once world.

"Who are you?" the whispered question brought Harry back from his wonderings. He looked at the child and noted that he was neither as pale as before nor as wary.

"Who am I?" he repeated softly, a bit longingly and maybe a bit unsure "I am many things, had been called many names, been given too many titles. Too much of everything really." And now he wondered why he was giving a kid such insight on himself, especially when he would more than probably not understand nor remember this conversation by tomorrow. He shrugged mentally. "But you may call me Harry if you wish."

"Right. Where are we? And how?"

"Hmm, the how is simple, you had a panic attack and passed out, as for the where this is the little corner of your mind that belongs to me. I have to say it looks much more inviting now than a couple of hours ago."

"What? My mind? But... Wait! You're that voice!" Genesis accused hotly, with a pointing finger and everything, forgetting for a moment the sheer terror that this man could inspire.

"Indeed I am. I recall telling you I was real."

And he did but at the time Genesis hadn't been paying attention to little details like that, he was, logically, more concerned about hearing voices in his head.

"B-but that can't be! Real people have bodies!"

Harry sighed. "I do have a body, which is locked away and inaccessible at the moment"

"But then why are you here?" a horrifying understanding came to mind and he scooted backwards slightly as if trying not to just break into a run and attract the man's attention even more "This is my body! I-I won't let you have it!"

Harry blinked, honestly surprised at the accusation since it was something that had not even crossed his mind. In all truth it would be a boringly easy thing to do but, as much as he had changed for the worse over the years, he had never fallen so low, he would never allow it. Even if he didn't have a way out of his situation, which he actually did have.

"That is not my intention. What happened before was an accident, an instinctual response I failed to control on time. I apologize for the discomfort I may have caused. However, I am here and I am not leaving."

Genesis frowned, calm once again. He may be five but he understood what was said to him, even if it was said in a stiff and weird way. That didn't mean he was about to blindly believe a man that was a complete stranger or that he had to like it.

"Why can't you leave? I don't want you here."

Harry shrugged, unconcerned, his cold and empty eyes boring into Genesis intense and fearless blue ones.

"We have a connection that is both mental and physical as well as permanent. You may not like it, you may hate it even but that is how things are kid. You will get over it. Or you will not. But I seriously recommend the first option, it is far easier."

Genesis was about to protest loudly when a strange feeling assaulted him making him stop cold on his tracks. He looked at himself and squeaked in surprise as his body started to lose weight and consistence.

"You are waking up," Harry clarified "also, you should consider keeping me a secret." At the boy's questioning glare he explained a bit more "I am real, I know this and you know it too but you do not believe it, do you?" Genesis all but confessed when he didn't meet his eyes. Harry nodded. "The point is, if you who has seen me do not believe it, why would anyone else believe you? You will be branded as a liar at the very least and only because you are a child."

Genesis looked unsure but he didn't get to say anything else before he vanished completely.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Their first interaction, finally! Harry is being a bit bipolar, but he is weird like that now and he is old. And we have more of Genesis, he is still a scared child in a different and somewhat terrible situation but I think glimpses of his future self can be seen. Sometimes.


	5. 5 years: Of dragons and bookworms

**Disclaimer:**   I solemnly swear I'm not the owner of Harry Potter and Final Fantasy. I wish I own Genesis. Pity. But I do own this plot.

 **Words:**  855.

 

* * *

 

It was almost a week later when Genesis heard from Harry again. It had been a quiet week, typical for a town like Banora, the most exciting thing probably was the whole debacle with Harry, about which nobody knew a thing. As young as he was Genesis had carefully considered the man's warning, if not for another reason that it echoed his own thoughts. In the end he had decided to test the waters, so to speak. He had spun an outrageous lie in the form of a tale to his parents the night after his fainting spell, he had thought that they would understand, they were his parents after all, they loved him.

They didn't. Understand, that's it.

After that he hadn't said much, he had no desire to repeat the experience or to have those chiding and disappointed glares directed to him. More than they already were for telling tales. Stupid tales full of lies even if they were truth.

But right now Genesis was, for once, not thinking about the voice and any matters related to it, or about his family reactions. Especially about his family reactions. It was midmorning and the child was up to his neck in his studies. He had been struggling with his math book for the last weeks and was all set about conquering his foe, never mind that the book was more appropriate for a child twice his age than for him.

A shudder that had nothing to do with him run through his spine and a foreboding feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. The child frowned but otherwise ignored said feeling.

' _I never thought this could happen. It should be impossible, once was too much but this... Gods, how could a world, any world, give birth to another Hermione? I loved that girl to death but this is too much, the kid had been going at it for an entire week.'_  Harry thought, mindful of not leaking his thoughts to his little fledging.

Approaching the kid was probably the best course of action but if his track record with his other fledging was anything to go by he already knew it was pointless. Trying wouldn't hurt, he supposed, if only he knew what to say he would be set.

" _Don't you ever go out kid?"_  Not the best approach, but maybe straightforward was better? He hoped so.

Genesis straightened his back so fast it must have hurt, but if it did he was too distracted to react. A frown settled on the little redhead face while he considered the pointless question, wary about whatever reasoning was behind it but curious nonetheless.

"What for?" He responded with another question.

Genesis could feel the surprise and disbelief from that man bleed into him and it was almost too much too take. These sudden bursts of foreign feelings had been happening since that encounter a week ago and every time it made him feel cold and like a stranger in his own body. He wanted to tear them apart and throw them far away from him but knew that he couldn't. Needless to say Genesis hated them with the force of a thousand suns.

" _Uh... I am not sure but... don't kids your age enjoy playing, running around and basically just having fun?"_

He didn't have any personal experience, as he had never done those things as a child, but he was fairly sure that Genesis behaviour was not normal for a kid. Except for Hermione, maybe, but she was an exception for almost every rule when a book was near. He was also sure that Genesis was not in the same situation he had been as a child and he could  _feel_  the pent up energy that every child this age possessed, so it wasn't really a surprise that Harry couldn't understand the redhead behaviour.

The petulant sneer on said redhead face didn't dissipate the mystery even if it did dig up forgotten memories from a certain school rival with silver-like eyes.

"I have more important thing to do than playing silly games like a child."

Harry could understand having important things that needed to be done. His mortal life had revolved around such things, even as a child younger than Genesis and in spite of never feeling like a child at all. However, for some unfathomable reason, Harry felt a pang of sorrow at Genesis' words, as if something like this was not meant to be and maybe it wasn't, but then again, it also wasn't any of his business. He had no intention of telling the kid how to live his life –like a certain old man he knew- so he squashed the weak but annoying voice that urged him to do something,  _anything_ , to help the kid because kids are supposed to have fun and laugh and...

He stomped on the little voice some more and retreated from Genesis consciousness, silently wondering how he would deal with this malfoy-ish Hermione and what other things he would find.

One thing he knew, things weren't going to be boring in the future.


	6. 5 years: Otherworldly

**Disclaimer:**   I solemnly swear I'm not the owner of Harry Potter and Final Fantasy. I wish I own Genesis. Pity. But I do own this plot.

**Words:**  1010.

 

* * *

 

" _What on Merlin name is that?"_

Harry sudden apparition after four days of absence stilled Genesis on the spot in a truly funny fashion: hunched over like a thief in the shadowed corridor that goes to his bedroom with a delicious dumbapple mere centimetres from his waiting –and watering- mouth. He blinked and couldn't stop the incredulous sound that escaped his control. He slapped his free hand over his mouth and looked around, when nobody popped from nowhere he ran to his room and closed the door as silently as he could. He let out a relieved sigh. That had been close and it was all that man's fault.

But first thing...

"This is a dumbapple. How on Gaia's name can you not know what a dumbapple is? Everybody knows that!"

" _I know what an apple is,"_  Harry defended himself  _"and I have seen red, green and even yellows apples but a purple one is just plain weird"_

"And you almost got me into trouble!" Genesis continued his rant, ignoring Harry completely "Do you have any idea of how much trouble I would get into have they seen me? You can't just appear like that in the middle of a mission of the utmost importance! What if I got caught? I would be banned from eating another dumbapple for weeks! Have you any idea of how terrible that would be?"

" _Ah... No?"_

"Exactly! It would be horrible! I would die!"

" _You would not die."_  Harry disagreed on mere principle. He was trying to come to terms with this new side of the redhead. Now this reminded him of Voldemort and his penchant for the dramatic, or maybe Snape with that little trick with his robes he was so fond of. Or maybe he should stick with Malfoy, the little drama queen.

"I would too!"

Definitely Malfoy.

" _If you say so"_  he conceded. Looking from Genesis eyes he could see the strange fruit, now missing some chunks. It was like any other apple he had seen except for the colour and maybe the flavour but he wouldn't know that until he had his own body back. He considered the fruit in front of him but for the life of his he couldn't understand the reasons of Genesis' original irritation. It was probably a worldly difference, so he asked:  _"What is so special about this apple anyway? It looks ordinary to me except for the colouring"_

"You mean... Really? You really don't know?" A negative feeling. After a moment of disbelief the redhead exploded "But it's the awsomest food in the world! It's sweet, and delicious, and cool, and... and... how can you not know? Everybody knows about it!"

" _Maybe because I am not from this world and I have not been able to explore it yet."_  Harry suggested blandly.

A second passed and many others followed before...

"WHAT?"

Genesis slapped both hands over his mouth this time, eyes wide with trepidation as he waited and listened to the sounds from the house. When nothing happened he let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. It took another five minutes before his galloping heartbeat slowed down to a normal rate. Why nobody ever said keeping secrets could be so stressful? At this rate he was going to have white hair before reaching his sixth birthday!

"Are you really from another world?" Genesis whispered in something akin to awe.

" _I am."_  Harry hesitated for a moment  _"There are many worlds out there, more than I could imagine for sure"_

"How... How is it? Your world I mean. Is it like this one? Did it have monsters? And mako? And trees and flowers too? Did you say you have red and green and yellow apples? Are they tasty? We have red apples too, but they aren't as sweet as dumbapples, I bet yours aren't as sweet as dumbapples. Have you been to other worlds? How were they? C'mon, tell me." Genesis fired question after question without sparing a second to breathe, it was oddly like when Hermione got started with one of her righteous rants about house-elves rights and whatnot but more annoying and childish, especially with than whined ending.

" _It was very similar to this world but very different at the same time. All the... monster had died by the time I left and no, we did not have this mako stuff. Yes, apples are sweet and I do not know if they are sweeter than a dumbapple as I have never eaten one. I have been to some other worlds too. They were... different."_ He listed some basics facts in a monotonous voice that completely lacked emotions. Not even an imagined hint emotion could be discerned. It was a voice he hadn't used in a long time, never after he almost irrevocably lost whatever humanity something like him could have retained in the first place. But trying to remember those times from his first life, when he was  _alive_ and _human_ , beyond mere facts was too much to bear.

"That's really cool!" the redhead exclaimed breathlessly, unaware of the reluctance coming from the green-eyed man "C'mon, tell me something else! A story or something!"

" _Maybe another time"_

"Eh? But why?" the boy whined "Don't be like that! Just a story! C'mon Harry! Harry?"

Had it been any good he may have looked around because Harry had suddenly disappeared without as much as a by-you-leave. He had retreated so deeply that Genesis could almost physically feel the absence of the man, it was as if he was missing a limb all of the sudden, it didn't hurt per-se but it was weird and uncomfortable. Had he been older, he would've been scared out of his mind because of how lost he felt without somebody that was a stranger at best and some sort of alien parasite at worst. As it was he only felt very cold and alone and all-around bothered by it.

He didn't even realize he had called Harry by his name for the first time.

 


	7. 5 years: A matter of time

**Disclaimer:**   _I solemnly swear I'm not the owner of Harry Potter and Final Fantasy. I wish I own Genesis. Pity. But I do own this plot._

**Words:** _765_ _._

* * *

Everything was still. It was that kind of unnatural stillness that always preceded the moment when a disaster of epic proportions will come crashing on your head with titanic force.

In the modified Gryffindor Tower that was Genesis' end of the connection between them Harry stood as still as one of the petrified students in his second year at Hogwarts. His expression was vacant even though his thoughts were racing. Oh, he definitely was berating himself for his carelessness alright, but it wasn't for revealing the existence of other worlds to a five-years-old child, no, it was because by doing so he had opened a gate to the questions. Questions he didn't want to answer because that meant diving into memories, treasured memories that he had buried a long time ago when he couldn't continue to bear the feelings they brought, couldn't stand the overflowing life they held, not when he wasn't alive anymore. Not to him at least. He was sure many would disagree, but then again he didn't care.

Memories are a funny thing. They have no physical way to do anything, have no real power of their own, but are definitely very powerful, have always been. They are the proof of our existence, of everything we lived, of everything good or bad that happened, everything evil or benevolent that we did. Without them we wouldn't  _be_. Through history they had given men great strength in order to succeed where many failed, but had also driven many great men towards madness and beyond.

Yes, memories have always held great power.

So powerful they are that even after a thousand, six hundred and thirty two years Harry Potter is still bound and gagged by the painful grip of his past, a past he didn't dare look upon but at the same time couldn't - _wouldn't_ \- let go. An impasse if there was ever one.

Had Snape been around now Harry was sure he would've snarled something along the lines of, " _grow up already and stop moping around like a petulant child!",_  patented dark sneer included. Of course, dear ol' Snape would've added something about him being a petulant child anyway. Harry had learned long ago that he just couldn't win when it came to the bitter potions master.

But back to the problem at hand, in that moment Harry was feeling as if the weight of every one of those years had came crashing on his shoulders all at once like an unstoppable tsunami, and it almost felt like that this time it may succeed in killing his already cracked and wilting sanity. It didn't happen, but that didn't mean it wouldn't happen one day. Actually, he knew it would happen, sooner or later. It was merely a matter of time.

Harry closed his eyes and breathed deeply, in and out and again, in a well practiced motion that only those who had taken the practice of meditation and turned into art could ever hope to emulate. The action was not physical but that didn't stop him from getting a measure of comfort from the familiarity it represented. He wasn't quite sure why such a little opening to his past bothered him so much but the fact remained, so he did what he had always done in this kind of situation since he was a mistreated child and afterwards an unwilling saviour. He ignored it. He shook himself from those useless thoughts and shoved the little, but insanely powerful, buggers to the farthest corner of his own mind. No need for Genesis to stumble upon them accidentally after all.

He would soon remember the inherent dangers of shutting off his emotions.

If Harry was a master of anything it was of the subtle art of deniability defined by the words, " _ignore it and it will go away"._  Too bad facts and memories didn't care much about feelings and intentions and always found a way to come back to bite him in the ass. How an immortal entity with more than a millennia and a half of experience  _still_  hadn't learn the lesson was simply unbelievable but sadly true.

What Harry didn't know was that the status quo he had so carefully maintained for centuries was already broken without any possible way to mend it, no matter what he wanted. The comfortable, if empty and meaningless, situation he had lived until now had ended the moment he decided to follow the mental connection he and Genesis shared.

As some would say, Harry Potter was in for a rude awakening at some point in the near future.


	8. 5 years: Hogmanay *

**Disclaimer:**   _I solemnly swear I'm not the owner of Harry Potter and Final Fantasy. I wish I own Genesis. Pity. But I do own this plot._

**Words:** _939_ _._

* * *

It was nighttime, almost midnight in fact, but, contrary to what routine dictated, the little town of Banora was still awake and had no plans of going to sleep anytime soon. The town's main square was filled with almost every person currently living there, from old, to young, to very young. Everywhere was filled with enthusiastic voices and happy laugher. Every face was lit by a light that wasn't often seen most days. It was New Year's festivities and Banora's inhabitants were celebrating with all their might.

The arrival of a new and, hopefully better, year was one of the two most important dates in the modern world. The other one was Shin-Ra's anniversary which was made into a worldwide public holiday after their immense boost in power and influence. There were others, of course, but none were more important (the latter) or popular (the former).

In spite of this, one lone person was not present in the town's square.

He was perched precariously on the roof of his magnificent home, leaning against the old chimney and letting his head rest against the dirtied bricks. His blue eyes were shining with longing and a bit of hurt from behind his rust-coloured bangs.

For Genesis this was the first time alone on this special day. Every other year he had gone accompanied by his maid and caretaker since in this date his parents were always so deeply entrenched with the festival's organization that they barely had time for him. Mr. Rhapsodos was, like always, the main investor and overseer of what was and wasn't needed for the festival to be perfect; while Mrs. Rhapsodos was the head of the committee that put everything together. They didn't leave their child alone out of spite or anything like that, they were merely too busy, too often to the point that they barely remembered their offspring. However, this time his caretaker wasn't in town, which left him on his own.

By his absence from the main action it was obvious he wasn't allowed to go without a chaperone.

Genesis sighed, uncharacteristically depressed by the whole thing.  _'Only five more minutes'_ , he reminded himself.

" _Happy (early) New Year!"_  greeted Harry's voice out of the blue, spooking the five-years-old despite speaking barely louder than a whisper.

Genesis jumped just barely at the unexpected reappearance of The Voice, but it was enough for his feet to slip on the cold tiles and he would've plummeted to his death hadn't he reacted on time to latch on the chimney he had been using as support a moment ago. Everything happened so fast that the child didn't notice the unnaturalness of his movements, or the speed and reflexes he didn't possess but demonstrated not a moment ago. Harry's influence was long gone by the time the adrenaline ran its course and left him a trembling and panting mess.

Five seconds, less than five seconds and the bothersome green-eyed menace had almost managed to kill him, and unintentionally at that. Apparently the Potter Luck was more resistant than a roach and it decided to follow the last Potter through time and space and through him it was pestering Genesis. Woops.

" _You should be more careful. You do not want to die, do you?"_

That was the wrong thing to say.

Genesis' wide and frightened eyes narrowed and a fire of righteous fury lit behind those defiant blue eyes. There was nothing but anger in his voice when he finally found it.

In all honesty it was actually quite a funny sight. Like a hissing kitten baring its fangs and puffing its tail.

"And whose fault was that?!" The child yelled, unconcerned about being heard. He was alone after all. He really wished that Harry had a physical form, if only to push him off the roof with his own hands.

Had Harry been inclined to feel much of anything he would have sweatdropped comically.  _"That would not kill me..."_  deadpanned the entity from his ironically secure place in the child's head.

Genesis' eyebrow twitched. "Maybe, but it would make me feel better."

Tense silence befall them, slowly increasing in intensity to the point it could've been cut by a blunted knife. And then Harry popped it like a soap bubble with the simplest comment:  _"Hn, eyes up. Happy New Year, kid, for real this time."_

"Huh? What- oh, wow..." breathed the redhead with wide eyes that suddenly were reflecting dozens of colourful explosions, each one blossoming like celestial flowers gifted to mortals by the Gods.

Fireworks. They were easily the most beautiful and exotic thing he had seen so far in his short life and the most expected part of the night. A chilly breeze blew his hair from his face, revealing a happy expression aided by a small albeit content smile.

"' _Wow' is quite right,"_  commented Harry. He too was watching the show with as much attention as the child.  _"You should see what adding a little magic can do to them,"_  he added, almost as an afterthought but with a touch of too much emotion behind the words for just a casual comment. More emotion than whatever Genesis had witnessed before at the very least. It didn't quite registered in the child's mind but it didn't completely escape his attention either. He would remember given the right incentive.

For now, Genesis smile widened a bit, happy at not being alone on New Year's; even if his only company was an annoying voice that had trashed his life when he appeared but was absent more often than not.

He wasn't alone tonight and that was all that mattered.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***** Hogmanay is the Scots word for the last day of the year and is synonymous with the celebration of the New Year.
> 
> As for my reason to put this title, well, as far as I'm aware the HP books don't have many if any mentions or allusions to religion of any kind, except, maybe, for the Yule Ball. Yule or Yuletide is Pagan in origin as far as I know. So, while Harry may've any kind of religious belief (or none), I decided to make him a Pagan, or at least inclined towards it, thus a title related to it.


	9. 5 years: Business

**Disclaimer:**   _I solemnly swear I'm not the owner of Harry Potter and Final Fantasy. I wish I own Genesis. Pity. But I do own this plot._

**Words:** _836_ _._

* * *

_Business:_

_\- A trade or profession  
\- Serious work or endeavour  
_ _-_ _Obsolete:_ _The condition of being busy._

" _If you keep talking to thin air people are going to start getting suspicious of you."_

It was a testament of a child's endurance and adaptability that Genesis didn't react in any visible way. He just marked the page of his borrowed book and closed it, all in a swift and precise movement. He placed it in his lap.

"Mother won't notice," the child replied easily and worst of all, truthfully, "and Father... he is too busy to pay attention to something so insignificant. He has better things to do."

' _Insignificant, huh,'_  thought Harry to himself, not really bothered.

" _And the servants?"_

Genesis was startled. What could they possibly have to do with anything? "What about them?"

" _They could hear you and inform your father, what would happen then, hm?"_

Genesis thought about it for a moment before dismissing the possibility. They were just servants. They were there to clean and cook and take care of him, nothing else. That was as far as he was aware though. The truth was that all of the servants had more duties to their names and one of the duties of Genesis' caretaker was precisely to keep an eye on him for any abnormalities caused by the experiments done to the boy before and shortly after birth. There hadn't been anything worth of notice, until now.

Harry had immediately noticed the difference between the watchful look of somebody who cared and was serious about their job and the hawk-like intensity that followed the redhead every move. Despite this, the green-eyed entity didn't mention a thing, neither about the subtle vigilance nor about said redhead callous treatment of his family servants. The boy would eventually learn that reality was much less nice and accommodating than his cosy and sheltered life. The day would come and it wouldn't be pretty. It hadn't been for Harry. It never was.

Still, Harry didn't feel like being completely cut off the world once more, which would happen if Genesis was taken in for experimentation, or, in other words, taken prisoner. And everybody knows what fate awaited test subjects, in this and all worlds.

" _Anyway, why not try something different?"_ he suggested.  _"Something that will not make you sound like you_ are _going crazy?"_

The boy frowned, curious despite his rising annoyance at the  _thing_  inside his head that kept telling him  _he_  was the one that was crazy. Or looked like crazy. Same difference really.

"Well then, what should I try?"

" _Try thinking."_

A stunned moment passed.

"What?!" Growled the kid, trying to sound menacing but sounding cute instead.

" _Exactly what I said, think about what you want to say instead of saying it."_

Genesis blinked and blushed at the misunderstanding. He crossed his arms and puffed his cheeks, making him look strangely like a terrestrial chipmunk. "That's not what you said!"

" _It was implied."_  Harry's voice was without emotion, as it was the norm, but there was something akin to amusement that had Genesis reddening even more.  _"Now try it."_

Almost a minute passed without result until a very faint, barely there, whisper reached Harry.  _'Li-like t-this...?'_

" _Not bad. You have to put more force into your thoughts but not too much, you don't want to shout."_

' _Is this better?'_  Came the second try after a short while. It was indeed better. Still a bit faint but definitely better.

" _It is. Now keep thinking, I do not want you talking at all until you have gotten the hang of it,"_  the older one of the two ordered and for once Genesis didn't snap back in irritation, he was far too busy reeling from the acknowledgement he had just received for his effort. The first one ever. And it came from the stranger in his head. For some reason that made him equally ecstatic and terribly sad.

' _O-ok...'_  he thought back in agreement, making Harry raise an eyebrow in puzzlement. That though hadn't been weak, just very soft.

Genesis shook his head to clear it, making his reddish hair fell on his eyes, covering the mix of incomprehensible emotions that were reflected in them. Ignoring the tight knot in his throat that apparently was trying to suffocate him, he started practicing.

And practice he did.

He maintained an almost one-sided conversation for hours until mental tiredness won and he fell asleep in the comfortable beanbag situated next to the large window that practically covered a third of the wall in his bedroom. The dark curtains were drawn so the afternoon light streamed into the room, illuminating the child with an ethereal and almost mystical light that make it look like he was glowing.

Genesis sighed and shifted in his sleep, breaking the strange moment that was only witnessed by the ever silent Gaia and a book on business that at some point had slid from the boy's lap and onto the floor, where it laid, abandoned.


	10. 5 years: Rule Number One

**Disclaimer:** _I solemnly swear I'm not the owner of Harry Potter and Final Fantasy. I wish I own Genesis. Pity. But I do own this plot._

**Words:**   _494._

* * *

"It's not fair!" Genesis' whine was muffled by the fact that he had his face upside down on his bed.

Harry was laid down on his own bed inside the child's mind; face to the ceiling, brows furrowed and an unhappy frown that pulled his lips downwards ever so slightly. He sighed as the complaint was echoed through their link. Again. The temptation to shut down the connection between them reared its head almost in unison but Harry shelved it once more. He had discovered the last time that retreating too much and too decisively into his own corner of Genesis' mind had negative consequences for the boy that he hadn't foreseen simply because he hadn't considered how... fragile a child's mind was.

He sighed and turned his focus outwards.

" _It's your own fault."_

"No, it's not!" Genesis shouted before he remembered to communicate by thought alone.  _"It's not my fault! I didn't mean for mother's vase to fall."_

" _Yes, you did,"_  countered Harry, unfazed by the childish indignation sent his way.  _"And you got caught, which is even worse."_

The redhead blinked, another useless protest dying in his lips.

" _Worse? How can tha' be worse?"_

Harry hummed, deep in thought. Should he share The Rules with the kid? He wasn't sure that he wanted to go there right now, but The Rules... The Rules were just a list of suggestions; they weren't painful unless he dug around for the memories attached to them, something he had no intention of doing. Yes, he could give the kid something new to learn and practice while honouring a long standing tradition at the same time.

" _It's Rule Number One: Never Get Caught."_

Genesis propped his torso up, letting his weight rest on his elbows, his brows furrowed in confusion. He looked in the direction of the closed and locked door, at the mess he had made of his bedroom in the relatively short span of the two hours he had spent in time-out. He didn't want to hear anything about rules of any kind, rules were boring and everyone always got mad when he broke them, accidentally or otherwise. But Harry didn't sound mad, so maybe they weren't that kind of rules?

" _What rules?"_ He asked warily.

" _The Rules of the Prankster Guide."_

" _The rules of the_ _what_ _?!"_  Repeated Genesis, bewildered.

In the emptiness of his room Harry suddenly smiled; a predatorily kind of smile that was nothing like the empty gestures he had become used to dredging up for the comfort of the people around him. No, this smile, terrifying as it would seem to anyone that saw it, was real.

" _Why don't I tell you the rest?"_  Harry said conspiratorially.

On the outside world a shiver went down Genesis' spine, a strange mixture of dread and excitement spread through his body and a mischievous smile tentatively found its way to his face.

" _Shoot,"_  said the little boy, stealing an expression Harry had used once.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** _I solemnly swear I'm not the owner of Harry Potter and Final Fantasy. I wish I own Genesis. Pity. But I do own this plot._

**Words:**  8 _33._

* * *

Genesis was, despite worries to the contrary, a healthy child. But even healthy children occasionally got sick and the redhead wasn't an exception. So there he was, laid down on forced bed rest until the flu that had struck the town left his body for good. He had spent four days alternating between suffering from abject boredom or from the symptoms of the flu and he was more than ready for his body to recover. He swore to never use the bed again after this.

Right now his fever had peaked again and he was feeling nauseous, sore and tired. At the same time he didn't want to sleep, if he went to sleep mother would leave and he would lose such a unique moment. Mother hadn't tucked him in since he was tiny and he missed her.

He had never been more happy for his maid day off than today because mother was with him and father was in the doorway, which was almost like being right next to him.

"Can you tell me a story? Please."

She had never done so but that didn't mean she wouldn't. He really wanted a story, or maybe a hug and a kiss, or for her to stay; he wasn't sure what he wanted.

"I'm sorry, dear, but I don't have the time. The gala is in the next town and we're already late as it is."

Genesis frowned. He had forgotten about the stupid gala. He was supposed to attend too but that wouldn't happen. He didn't know if he was happy or angry at that. He hated the galas his parents had to attend, they were boring and full of grownups but, at the same time, it was a chance to spend more time with mother and father.

"Can Marie tell me a story then?"

Mrs. Rhapsodos shook her head.

"Marie is in charge of the mansion tonight, she has more pressing concerns to see to, I told you that already." Genesis face fell but he managed to squeeze out a strangled 'ok' from somewhere. That was fine; he didn't like Marie much anyway, as she was always scolding him for touching things, dirtying everything and tracking mud everywhere. He never played in the mud to begin with. "That's a dear. Doctor Moon said you should be feeling better by tomorrow. Go to sleep, soon you'll be out and about."

Genesis nodded once, eyes downcast. He said nothing as his mother smoothed his damp hair out of his sweaty forehead. He said nothing as she murmured a soft goodbye and stood up. He said nothing when she discretely cleansed the hand that had caressed him on a disposable towel. He stayed completely still and utterly silent as father turned around and she closed the door behind her. Only when he was sure that their footsteps were gone he reacted.

He sat up, a strangled sound caught half-way out of his throat, and in one fluid movement he flung his pillow towards the door. It collided with a soft 'thud', bounced back and fell to the floor, where it stayed, immobile. He didn't try to retrieve it. Actually, he didn't move for a long time, he just sat there gasping for breath and feeling like he had run around the mansion a hundred times. He sniffed and the tears he had managed to reign in while his parents were present came spilling out in a flood of salty water and snot. He folded his aching body into a ball and pressed the palm of his hands to his eyes in a futile attempt to stop the tears.

"S-stop, st-op i-it, I-I'm not a-a c-c-cryb-aby, I'm n-not, 'm not, 'm n-n-ot..."

The distraught child kept repeating those words like a mantra but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't stop the tears from flowing. In the end Genesis' eyes slid shut and the boy fell back, still in the same curled up position. He had cried himself into an exhausted and restless sleep, interrupted only by the occasional hiccup.  
  


* * *

  
Inside the boy's mind Harry stirred after several minutes of trying to outlast a statue. He was seated in his preferred armchair in front of the cold and perfectly clean fireplace. He'd been there for most of the day. Without making a sound Harry rose from his seat and casted a blank look at the ruined armrests of the piece of furniture and the shredded book scattered all around. He knew a thought could fix it but he didn't feel like bothering. Instead he turned around and stalked towards his bedroom, most specifically towards the physical connection of the link between Genesis and his body, and from there to the 'sleeping beauty'.

Maybe a chat with Chaos would help him work out the sudden and uncomfortable need to strangle Mr. and Mrs Rhapsodos out of his system. If not... well, it wasn't practical to dwell on the 'what ifs', especially in his current situation.


End file.
